


After Action Reports and Red Bull

by a_xmasmurder



Series: 221B's and Drabbles (Multi-Fandom) [19]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: (i have not the first clue about hacking), A day in the life of, Fluff, Hacking, M/M, Paperwork, Q might be an android, Snark, bitching about work, potty mouth, tech, tempers, trees have died for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 04:23:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5192216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Also known as "How Q May Be Losing His Mind". A (non)typical day in Section Six. Snark is had, Bond does paperwork, Alec is an ass and Eve is a nerd. Q has a temper problem, no one should let him near blowtorches.</p><p>(Also, I love Rammstein, so any descriptions of it are Alec's and Alec's alone. He has shit taste in music, if you talk to James.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Action Reports and Red Bull

Q looked up from his laptop as the door to his personal office opened and leveled a glare at James Bond. “Is it on fire?”

Bond paused in the doorway. “No? Is that the right answer? I haven't been by R&D yet, so - ”

Q waved that away with an impatient hand. “Is it still intact?”

A cloud of confusion stole across Bond’s face. “As far as I am aware - ”

“Is it leaking an unknown contagion?”

“It...can’t?”

“Then it can wait.” Q looked back at his screen and continued typing. “You are dismissed.”

With no thought to his continued safety or employment, Bond stepped into the office fully and slipped the door closed behind him. “If this is about Serbia -”

Q rolled his eyes. “This isn’t about anything at all. Be gone, posthaste.”

“It’s about Serbia.” Bond settled himself into the single guest chair, a gaudy leather affair that Q seemed to despise with every fibre of his ultra-modern sensibility.

“It is not.” Q stabbed at the keys under his fingertips. “If you haven’t already noticed, I am quite busy at the moment. If you could remove yourself from my presence it would be greatly appreciated.”

“Quartermaster.” Bond cocked his head. “What has you so busy that you can’t take time to -” here, he smirked “- check the status of your current boyfriend and the equipment you sent him off to Serbia with?”

Q scowled into the blue glow of the screen. “Forms. Forms for everything from how many toothpicks we use in R&D to the bloody range testing of the new Armalite system. My printer is overheating, and I hate everything.”

Bond shakes his head, the smirk turning into an indulgent smile. “That’s why Moneypenny hired your secretaries out of the intern pool. To handle that sort of thing.” He missed what his dear pet muttered. “Come again?”

“I fired them.”

Bond leaned forward. “You fired them? Why?”

Q finally pushed away from his desk and slammed the lid of his laptop shut. “Because one used a calculator for an addition problem, and the other one typed at the speed of a drunk sloth! I would have been fine with the calculator, but it was a factor of ten. Ten, James! Add a bloody zero! But speed typing is a prerequisite here. Moneypenny should know this, she flies through forms like some sort of jet. So the interns were collectively shit, and I fired them.” He peered at Bond, softer after the outburst. “Serbia was a wash. Successful, somehow, but still a wash. I’d be surprised if you made it out with anything more than your body intact thanks to that green agent and his itchy trigger finger. Bonus points if the gun made it in less than five pieces, but I don’t expect much more than that. I haven’t slept since you left, M ripped me a new arse for the blowtorch incident, and I’m going to kill the next agent that asks for a bloody exploding briefcase.” He rounded his desk and patted at Bond’s dusty jacket. “No winces, so you are not dying.” He slid his hands around Bond’s back, making Bond’s lips twitch. “You are no thinner, so you are eating. Which means your mind isn’t trying to scratch nasty things into the inside of your skull.” He slid his glasses further up his nose with one finger while staring at Bond’s face. “And you seem to have found a cot to sleep on in the military transport, because you actually look well-rested.”

“Much more than you can say, unfortunately.” James’s face took on a remorseful moue; he had slept on the plane, a solid eight hours. Q had the look of a rather startled raccoon on an immense amount of caffeine about him. “You haven’t slept since I left? That’s been days, sweetling.”

“Not well, at any rate. What with the world falling down around our ears for the sixth time this week, Serbia, and that thing with the Cabinet and a half-eaten tuna melt with a timer stick shoved into it. Strange days are upon us when the old codgers are afraid of a sandwich.” Q finally allowed himself physical contact, which James savored for the few seconds the hug lasted. Q felt like a ragdoll held up with the strings of duty and determination. “Actually, if it were a sandwich from MI5’s canteen, then I’d be worried. They always look fresh from a trash bin, it’s no small wonder Annalise seemed excited over our own selections.” Q shivered in Bond’s arms and hummed in thought. “Tuna. Well, it could have been shaved beef, that would have made them happy.”

Bond shook his head. “You are starting to make no sense.”

“Ha ha, bloody ha. I’ll have you know that I haven’t been making sense since two o’clock today.” Q stepped away and went around Bond to rattle something in a metal drawer. “And that was before the Red Bull. Hold one, Agent, I have something for you.”

“Christ,” James breathed. “How are you even upright?”

“Red Bull. Keep up. And if you ever call me sweetling in front of my people, I will chop your penis off and throw it into the trash.” Q threw a smirk over his shoulder and let out a small shout of success. “Found it.”

“What is it?”

“More paperwork, sadly. But luckily for me, it’s not something I have to fill out.” Q slapped the folder to Bond’s chest. “It’s yours. After-action report. You have the run of the office for the foreseeable future.” On his desk, a mobile came alive with a chirp. “Since I have to go see what they’ve blown up now.”

“You saw that coming?” Bond looked down at the folder. “And since when do you give me this? This is Mallory’s job.”

“Since he’s decided to take the day off. Daughter just had her second child.”

“Ah.” How did he miss that? Oh. Right. Serbia. Then he noticed the thickness. "This is rather hefty, dear. Did we add more checkboxes?"

Q waved his hand. “You'll see. Chair is yours. Burn the other one for all I care. But if you damage mine, I will destroy you.” With a final despairing look at the couch set off along one wall, tucked between two towering bookcases full of technical manuals, Q disappeared through the door and left James to his own devices.

Perhaps he’d be better off filling out the report. God knows when he’ll get another chance. ‘World falling down around their ears’ is right. Besides, Q would shoot him if he tried to leave now. Bond sat himself down, groaning in relief as the pressure left his right knee and his butt sank down into soft heaven. Bless Q and his slight frame. Alec and Ronson - damn, he missed that bastard - had flattened every stupidly expensive office chair he’s ever owned, but Q wouldn’t be able to. Not that the man sat much, the way he flitted around like a butterfly. Bond scanned the desktop until he found a proper biro and got to work.

**  
  
  
  
**

Half an hour passed before James wondered if his pet was ever coming back. He also wondered if he himself was ever going to finish his work. The thickness of the folder was due to there being more than one AAR. Much. More.  _Shit._

The door handle clicked through the silence. He looked up, pleased with the possible distraction from paperwork by either a quick fuck or watching Q all but fall face first into the couch. Both have happened during marathon work weeks, and James would be happy with either.

The door opened to admit - “Though I’m tickled fucking pink that you made it back from Mexico with less than half your suit burnt off, Alec, I’d much rather have Q standing in that doorway, if it’s all the same to you.”

Alec paused, much like Bond had done, though with more shock on his expressive and scarred face. “Is that the sort of welcome I deserve after cleaning up after your messes, sweet cheeks?"

"About all you deserve, after Tangier."

"I'll accept that. What the hell are you doing here?”

James held up the biro. “AARs.”

“Yum. Serbia?”

“As such, yes. But there’s a backlog.” James winced. “A terrifying amount of backlog.”

Alec shut the door behind him and dropped his duffle. “I could probably help with that. How much paperwork have we bullshitted our way through?”

“Forests,” James replied with a smile. “Enough for a few.”

“So I’ll help. And I won’t just bin them this time.” Alec returned the smile. “Where’s the wunderkind? Or are you the new Quartermaster?”

“God no, England would be buggered if I gave Q’s job a go. He’s off making sure nothing blows up.” James scribbled out another line of bullshit on the line. “Or blowing something up himself, more like.”

“Heaven preserve us.” Alec lowered himself into the hideous guest chair with only a slight wince. “What’ve you done now?”

“Not me.” James smirked as the door handle clicked again. “Life and paperwork has done. Q’s one Red Bull short of a trip to Medical, and he doesn’t get done until - “

A female voice broke into his explanation. “Until he cleans up the mess in the Q branch Lab. There was a minor fire. You know how Thursdays are.” James waves his hand in an ‘I told you so’ way as Eve pokes her head in. “Busy, boys?”

“Not really,” Alec responds as James mutters, “Damned paperwork.”

“May I impose? I went and picked up takeaway, but my desk is still hazardous since Q torched it out of spite.”

James hiccoughed. “He did what?”

Eve let out a lilting laugh. “Ah. I suppose you were both gone for the excitement. He didn’t tell you?”

“He told me he got chewed out by Mallory.”

Alec stared at Eve. “He set your desk on fire?”

“Well, in a way. The papers, none of it anything we can’t just replace. We do have a fair amount of printers.” Eve shut the door behind her and sauntered over, leaning her hip against the desk and setting the bag of what smelled like Chinese food on the blotter. “See, I was filing and Q stomped out of M’s office in a snit about something. He glared at me, glared at the papers on my desk, muttered a few choice oaths, and pulled out what looked like a lighter. Then he set my desk on fire.”

“Wasn’t a lighter.” Alec had a gleam in his eye that spelt danger for James’ newest flat. “A flamethrower?”

“Blowtorch. Slight difference.” Eve doled out rice and chicken and beef, holding the pork for when Q finally staggered through the door. “Thankfully, I still have quick reflexes.”

“Tell that to the Land Rover you destroyed.” James buried his head back into his work, checking off a line of boxes and tossing the paper to the side. “Hell. Impossible. I don’t even remember the Slovak mission.”

“You came back on a stretcher with a cracked skull.” Alec popped a handful of sticky rice into his mouth. “Of course you don’t remember it. I wonder if he’ll make me a blowtorch lighter.”

“Oh.” With a flourish, James checked the first box on the newest page. “ ‘Were you injured in any way on this mission?’ That would be a resounding yes, thank you Trevelyan for that. And no.”

“That’s not what it actually says.” Eve smiled. “And I drive just fine when I’m not chasing a madman through a bazar. With another madman in the passenger seat.”

James laughed and scratched out a few more answers to what he remembered. “Regular comedians, you lot are. Should hire you out for birthdays and office Christmases.”

The door slammed open, startling the three of them. Q rushed in, mobile to his ear. “Have you done it? Good, we need our ears and eyes for this, can’t have them shutting the whole - Christ, listen to yourself, you’re a professor of cybernetic systems and you are falling apart at the seams the moment someone wants to dance with you! Set the hounds loose on them, then!” He rounded the desk and swiped up his sticker-festooned personal laptop, the one with the drop-proof casing. He propped the mobile to his ear with his shoulder. “I’ll be on in less time if you’d stop squawking. You are not a cockatoo, stop acting like one. Set them loose.” He plopped down next to Bond’s leg, leaning against it, and cranked open the lid. With his other hand, he reached under the desk, bumping Alec’s shoe as he pulled out three separate cords. James was hit with a momentary flash of Not such a clever boy, the London underground and boiling rage, deep in his stomach. It disappeared the moment his beloved plugged his computer in. “I’m in.” His fingers flew, sliding over keys like he wasn’t bone exhausted and hanging on by a thread. “James, could you put on something a bit driving, please? This one wants to play hard. Damien, I suggest getting the hell out of my way in about three seconds. I can see you, have you ran Cerberus? Good. That’ll hold off the bulk of the attack while I go for the source. Get out of my way.”

James reached for his personal tablet and searched through his music service until he found some Rammstein. Alec’s brows rose as James turned the volume to max and hit play. “He listens to this?”

“When he’s doing what they really hired him for, yes.” James had to raise his voice to be heard over the heavy-handed noise of Sehnsucht. “He was anti-cyberterror before becoming the head of Q Branch. Tiny little service closet of an office, but when he gets in the zone you could put him into a fucking tin can and he wouldn’t notice.” James smiled. “Anne tells me every chance she gets about how he took on the entirety of the CIA’s cyber-attack dogs during an exercise, when he’d first started. Not only slipped past them, but left traps for when they noticed he was gone and tried to get into our system. All the while, he was flitting around behind their backs, leaving little notes of where he was.” He tapped the biro along with the music. “Rumor has it that the CIA fired that whole team.”

“All rumor, I assure you.” Q murmured, still focused on his laptop. “Only the sysadmin got canned, and only because she called me the next day and screamed at me for half an hour, during her shift.”

Alec craned his head so he could see the mop of hair over the desk. “Not happy?”

“Nope.”

“How can you focus on that, listen to this racket, and listen to us, all at once?”

Q sighed. “Same way you can bitch at me about your tech in the middle of seducing a government official and avoiding their bodyguards.”

“Yeah?”

“I can multitask. Damien, the smokescreen? The music is only background noise to help with the focusing, Alec.”

“Makes sense.” Alec sat back, shaking his head in bemusement.

Q yelped. “Son of a bitch! That duplicitous clod of curdled goat’s milk! I’ll have them yet, just you see. Damien! Are you waiting for them to bomb the links? Hit them!” Q snarled at his computer. “I haven’t seen my house in a week, let alone my bed. I want this over and done with. So help me, if you don’t _do something_ I’m going to toss you out on your thick-headed arse - thank you! I can work with that.” His fingers flew over the keys, and windows popped up on a flat screen on the far left wall.

“When the fuck did that turn on?” Alec swung around, staring at the screen. James couldn’t blame his friend. Lord knows what else could be sentient in the office.

“Just now, thanks to a remote command from my laptop, Agent. Calm yourself. I haven’t invented a sentient artificial intelligence just yet - what the bloody hell was that? Damien! Quit nipping at their heels and cover that sector.”

James’s response to Q’s voice going high and tight was Pavlovian. He moved smoothly to his feet, hands ready to do whatever was necessary, even if it was to grab a biro or a new laptop for Q when he tossed his at the wall. This wasn’t his fight, but he was there for his beloved.

“Bond, I’d flap my hands at you to sit down and finish your reports, but as you can see, I’m in a bit of a bind. So I’ll just have to growl at you until you do as I say.” Q’s focus stayed on the screen, but his lips were crooked with mirth. “Don’t make me growl.”

James eased back into Q’s chair. “Tell me it’s all right.”

“I can’t make promises.” Q nodded. “I can venture a guess that I might have this bastard in a bottleneck at the dark corner of the ‘Net. Damien, got a grenade or two I can toss to flush them out?”

Alec stared at Eve. “Grenade?”

Eve shrugged as she shoveled food into her mouth. With this development, she might be very busy very soon. “Might be tech-speak.”

James shook his head with a smile. “No. Not tech-speak. He’s making himself sound good for the lady in the room.”

“I learn from the best, asshole.” Q winked. “But not just the lady, mind. I’ve got more people to impress than that.”

Alec whistled low. “Nice. Potty mouth when hacking, and bi.”

James grinned. “Now I’m jealous.”

“Don’t be, love. This - ” Q grunted like he’d been physically hit “ - _prick_ is getting my blood in a lather. Damned snake. Once I’m done with him, I’m going to be riding you until I pass out.”

Alec’s brows shot upwards. “ _Nice_.”

“If you don’t pass out first.” James couldn’t help the honest-to-goodness blush that threatened to crawl down his throat. “You probably will.”

“All the better, then I can focus on sucking you until you cry first, then ride you.” Alec and Eve coughed around their surprised laughs. James swallowed his own laugh, then jerked when Q let out a yelp. “Christ! Damn it, Damien! Did you get ‘em?”

“It’s like listening to the interns playing Halo,” Alec muttered. He seemed to have recovered from the ‘too much information’ moments before. “A strange turn of events. Dinnertime entertainment goes from watching James fill out forms in long-dead languages to watching the Quartermaster and Damien destroy a hacker.”

“You utter _shit_! Did you actually fill out the forms in Latin?” Q shook his laptop. “Stop _playing_  around and do something, you complete - Oh, that’ll do. Got you now, asshat.” Q stopped shaking his laptop and got to work.

James grinned. “Nope. The Venetian job, I might have written in Pictish.”

“That’s impressive, if you actually have,” Q said.

Alec grabbed up the papers and shuffled through them. “Nope. No Pictish.”

“You wouldn’t know Pictish if it slapped you in the face with a trout,” James snorted.

“I see Pig Latin.”

Q barked out a laugh. “Keep that one and turn it in. I always wanted to see if M could read Pig Latin.”

Eve squawked. “You actually filled one out in Pig Latin?”

“What?” James shrugged. “I’m bored, and I don’t like AARs.”

Alec dropped the papers and consulted his phone. “I’m going to learn Pictish now.”

“Good luck.” Q cursed suddenly. “I would really fucking love to have J.A.R.V.I.S. right now.”

“Have who?” Alec stole some chicken from Eve’s plate.

“No, don’t encourage him.” Eve smiled. “He’s _all_ over Stark Industries right now.” Alec stared as if she’d grown a new head. “What? I happen to be a comic geek. Iron Man is my favorite.”

“All I’m saying is that if I had billions of dollars and a better last name, I wouldn’t be working for MI6.” Q rocked, hard, where he sat. “Yes! Win! Got the cunt!” He tossed his mobile to the side. “James, come down here and give us a kiss, would you?”

James obliged, giving in to the urge to rub Q’s back through his suit jacket and shirt as he kissed him. Q hummed into the kiss, closing his eyes. His face grew soft and serene. James pulled back, looking down at his lovely little hacker. “Better?”

“Much.” Q picked the phone back up. “Damien, do I still have you - nevermind, I can see you. I’m sure you can handle the patchwork and the cleanup. Did we have anything damaged? Oh, good. M will like to hear that. I don’t care who you have to - yes, the whole night crew, for all I care. I’m going to shut down and regroup. If there’s anything left for me to do in the morning, throw it into my inbox.” Q smiled. “Oh, and Damien? Grow a pair. Night.” He jabbed the ‘end call’ button and tossed it to the side once more. The laptop slid off his lap, and he tipped over onto James’s thigh. “And on that bombshell, good night.”

James didn’t even have time to say anything; the moment Q closed his eyes, he was gone.

Alec stared. “Well, that was entertaining. He just -” He waved his hand. “Actually shuts off?”

James dipped his head in affirmation. “That he does, if he goes hard like that. He hasn’t slept well in a week, at least.”

“Goes hard.” Alec rolled that around his mouth. “A week? Tea can’t keep you up for a week.”

“Red Bull can,” is all James had to say.

**  
  
**


End file.
